I'm Going Back to The Start
by WankyBrittanaLover
Summary: What would you do if you were given the chance to have another lifetime with the love of your life?/ Cause a lifetime is never enough.
1. Chapter 1

**So here's this idea I had a few weeks ago but I wasn't sure if I wanted to write it. I started it so I decided to post it. It starts off angsty, making it look like if it's completely angsty but it's not I swear! Lol it gets all fluffy later on.. Brittana is a very fluffy couple but it needs drama to make it interesting. So this is a different storyline, I hope you like it. Depending on your feedback, I'll decide if I keep going or not. Hope you enjoy it**

I woke up awhile ago, not sure if I was ready for another day. I got up, took some pills, applied some special morning cream, brushed my teeth and my white-ish blonde hair, and I used some moisturizer. I don't even bother showering; I honestly don't feel dirty enough for a shower. Perfume is enough. Besides, Santana has always loved the smell of my perfume, so it doesn't matter. I put some random, comfortable, and warm clothes on. I honestly don't care what I wear anymore and I know that neither does her. All that matters is seeing her and spending as much time with her as possible. This is a normal morning in my dear house. It wasn't like this before. It was somehow happier. I wasn't alone, rushing to the hospital every day. Well, now I don't rush anymore; now I'm just in a patient hurry. Now everything is a lifeless routine that will soon change into nothing. I don't know what's more depressing: what my life is or what my life will become. I throw a glance at my watch; 5:07 PM. Wait, what?! It's five already?! God, I must have slept through the whole morning and afternoon! I didn't know I was THAT exhausted. I'm so late; I really need to hurry up before Santana starts worrying.

I get in my little blue car and drive off the drive way. I look at a picture of my three kids on my dashboard. I silently pray for each one of them and all of my grandchildren, hoping that they are alright. I miss them all terribly. They come to visit Santana and I every once in a while, which is nice, but I definitely miss having them live under the same roof. The oldest, Leo, is happily married with his wife Spencer and his two kids. The middle one, Chloe, is happily living with her wife Charlotte in a huge apartment in Chicago. The youngest, Holly, is currently a single mom, since her daughter's daddy died in a car accident a few years ago. They're all super busy with their own lives and I really understand that, but sometimes I wish that me and Santana were still directly in their lives, not just as babysitters, or for holidays. But I guess that that's life and no matter how much I may want to stop time and prevent things from happening, I never will. Once they diagnosed Santana with cancer, I guess I discovered the reality of that. And now I wish I never did.

I've been driving for the last ten minutes, without even paying attention to where I'm going because I'm already used to driving to that hospital every day. Every single day. For the past year. The cancer right now is spread. They've tried everything to fix her, but it was diagnosed too late. That's the fucking problem with ovarian cancer; that sometimes the symptoms pass by unobserved, and once you realize you have cancer it may be too late. They've tried everything to make things better, but I guess we've all given up and the cancer took over already. The doctors say that there's still a chance that she might make it, but we all knows it's very remote so I don't even bother thinking about it. They give her a week or less. It's a reality I don't want to face but I feel I have no other option. A part of me wants her to keep on fighting for her health, her children, her grandchildren, and most importantly, for me. But a bigger part of me understands that she would be happier gone. She won't have to keep feeling so fragile, looking so pale, constantly taking chemotherapy, and wiping away my tears every once in a while. I'm trying to be as strong as I can, but there's nothing more heartbreaking than slowly losing the person you love the most in this world. People say that at least you get to say goodbye. People say that at least you get to appreciate your last moments with that person. But death is still death. Having a deadline won't make things any better. On the contrary, it makes it all so much more agonizing. You wake up every morning, secretly counting down the days until there's no real reason to even get up anymore, and there's nothing you can do about it. How is that any better than suddenly losing what you love?

I try not to think anymore; I have to always give Santana my brave face. She knows I'm trying really hard to be strong, and I am, but there's so much a person can handle. She says that I've been losing my innocence just as slowly as she's losing her life. I know she's secretly mad at me for letting myself go like that and for giving up on everything, but she doesn't say anything because she can't blame me. She knows that even if she asks me to try to get it back, I won't . At least not until she isn't dying on a hospital bed anymore.

I pull up front of the hospital, and I don't know why but it seems to be earlier than before. I check my watch; 4:50 PM. That's weird; I swear it was 4:07 around 20 minutes ago. Well, I guess I'm really losing it now. I go in the hospital, through the emergency room because it's closer to the parking, and I keep walking forward. Like the lifeless zombie that I am. I go to the coffee machine and I buy some cheap coffee, just to be a little bit happier for her. This is my drug. This stupid coffee is my drug. This is all I need to give her a brave face. Without it, I'm a wreck. How pathetic is that? After my coffee is ready, I pick it up from the machine and I drink some. It burns, but I keep drinking because my mouth is already filled with coffee burns and I'm used to it. Besides, at least when I burn myself I feel something. I rather feel pain than nothing at all. Then, out of the sudden, a kid bumps into me and makes me spill some coffee on my shirt. Fuck. That fucking burns.

"Kid!" I yell out. "Watch the fuck out!"

"I'm sorry!" The kid says and he runs away. He's a strange kid. The kid apologized while smiling. The kid ran away smiling. Then at the end of the hall, he laughed. Not at me, but at life. That was weird. I haven't heard anybody laugh at life for a while now. I spend my days in a hospital, for crying out loud. A hospital is one of the most depressing places there are; except the delivery rooms since they deliver lives. Hospitals are extremely contradictory. That's where lots of people die. That's where even more people are born. That's where people are saved or maybe indirectly killed. A hospital is a synonym for both life and death. That's how I used to see it anyways. Now, at least in my eyes, it's just filled with death. The kid is still laughing at the end of the hall. He kind of looks like Puck. A mini version of Puck. He's too cute. An older man just picked him up and started twirling him around. He's laughing at life too. I smile weakly, because I think I forgot how to laugh. Every time I laugh is because of something adorable or funny San may have said, but it quickly turns into a frown because I wonder how many more times she will make me laugh. I used to laugh at everything; now I laugh because my ill wife made a joke. I quickly turn away and eye my other surroundings, since I haven't really looked around since I got here. In fact, I barely ever do. I just come, take my coffee, I go to Santana's room, and then leave. Easy as pie. But today I feel like looking around. Maybe to look at the life I'm missing. Or maybe to see someone as miserable as me so I don't feel so alone. Honestly, whatever makes me look doesn't matter.

Something is weird. Something is very unusual today. I am standing in the middle of the emergency room and people are laughing. LAUGHING! Not in your typical "ha-ha-ha" but in the "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" sort of way. People are hysterically laughing and smiling all around. Most of them aren't even part of another group. Everybody is laughing and smiling in their own little world. Even the nurses and the doctors! Everybody looks like if this was some sort of party and that they were having the time of their lives. I keep looking around, and people are laughing everywhere. EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE. This is getting overwhelming. How can someone laugh in an emergency room? In a hospital?! What the hell is the matter with these people?

I turn around and leave to Santana's room. Hopefully there everything will make sense. It always does, anyways. Even in the worse times, being with Santana makes everything make sense. She is the love of my life. No doubt in that. I go in the elevator; I am greeted by some "Good afternoon!" 's, and in between annoyance of their pep and catchy energy, I find myself on Santana's floor. I start walking towards her room, when I am suddenly stopped by the doctor.

"Good afternoon! How may I help you?" Santana's doctor asks with the widest smile.

" ? It's me, Brittany." I say, with a hint of doubt and confusion in my voice.

"Hello, Brittany. I am indeed, Dr. Williams. How can I help you?" He asks again.

I stare at him and at his wide Colgate smile for a few more seconds. I honestly don't get what's going on. I've seen this doctor for more than a year now every single day. He knows my coffee order, he knows my clothes, he knows how I laugh, he knows how I cry, he knows I was a dancer, and yet he doesn't seem to remember that I'm the wife of one of his patients. "Are you shitting me? I'm here to see Santana!"

"So you know her name?" He asks. "Most people just come and recognize their lover while the other one just knows the other one's name. This must be a strong love! Beautiful!" What the hell? "Santana. Santana. Santana." He starts chanting while heading for his computer. I follow him, worried that something is wrong. He types in the name Santana and various pictures of different Santana's pop up. "Which one is it?" He asks. What the hell is the matter with him?!

"That one!" I yell out while pointing at a picture of her current self. When did they take that picture anyways? "What the hell is going on?!"

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?" He asks still chipper while reading everything under the name of Santana Lopez. It's like he's unaffected by my annoyance and my words! Does he not get that I just want to see my wife?!

"Brittany!" I scream out.

He gasps and then gives me an awed smile. It was almost as if he saw a puppy playing with a kitty right on my face. He's really freaking me out now. "So you're the wife?"

"Yes! Yes! Of course I'm her fucking wife! What the hell is going on?!" I demand.

He ignores my question again and keeps talking. "A little eager to see her, aren't we? Well, Santana is the sweetest thing in the world once you push her right buttons. You two would make a beautiful couple. I see how you two are soul mates. Right this way."

I'm too annoyed by his chipper attitude and his insane statements, so I just follow him to the room in which Santana is placed while he keeps talking. With Santana, everything will hopefully make sense. "She came with cancer around an hour ago and all its symptoms but that is something that will go away in around a year. She will be ok soon so no need to worry. But she even looks beautiful with short hair. That Latina grandma is gorgeous."

"What?" I ask pissed by his sudden optimism. "Is this some kind of joke to make me feel worse?"

"Ah!" He says avoiding my question. "Here we are!" We were standing in front of her opened room so I take a peek inside, since just a sight of her calms me down. She still looks fragile and weak, but she is the most beautiful person in this whole hospital. No, in this whole world. My wife is gorgeous. "Go inside. I love watching these moments!" The doctor says while he pushes me inside. What the hell is going on?

I walk inside, softly, scared that I might wake her up from her perfect dream world and bring her to this shitty reality. I sit on the chair right next to her bed and I gently caress her face. She is indeed the most beautiful person in the world.

Santana stirs up a bit and lets out an adorable "Mm?". Santana waking up has always been the cutest thing ever, no matter how old we may get.

"Hi, sweetie." I say while caressing her right cheek with my finger.

"Hi." She says while giving me the sweetest look. She may be older, but right now she's looking at me like in the day that we were in the locker room and she smiled at me. The day that we first laid together. Like if she just saw love for the first time. Yeah, I definitely took too long to get here today.

"I'm sorry I took so long to get here. I woke up late." I explain my tardiness.

"it's ok." She says. "You're here now."

"Yeah." I look back at the doctor who is still smiling like an idiot at us. "What's up with Dr. Williams?" I ask her.

"I don't know. He did say he loved watching lovers finding their way too each other. He says it's the best part of the job." She explains while placing a strand of hair behind my ears.

"That's strange but I'll take it." I smile at her and take her free hand and squeeze it.

After a few more seconds of gazing and touching each other like a teenage couple, she whispers me a question."So, you really are my lover?" She asks with a wide smile.

I stop squeezing her hand and I give her a questioning look.

"Are you?" She asks again, growing scared and taking her hand away from my face.

"What the-? What are you talking about?" I ask panicking. What the fuck! My wife is part of this madness too?!

"You're Brittany, right?" She asks, with a shy voice.

"Yes! Of course I'm Brittany! I'm your wife! What the hell is the matter with all of you?!" I ask standing up.

Her smile returns and she sits up straight. "Relax, Britt. Why didn't you just say so on the first place! Don't scare me like that. What matters is that you're my wife and that I'm yours and that in a year I'll be out of here with you. And we'll see what the rest of our lives have for us!"

I step away from the bed, backing up against the wall. Is this some kind of brainwash? Are they mocking me?! Are they trying to get the old me back so I don't suffer when she dies in a few days? How can they do this to me?! No, how can SHE do this to me?

"Is everything alright? Am I not what you were waiting for?" She asks, getting nervous and anxious too.

No matter how confused I am, seeing her nervous with cancer is something I can't handle. "No,no,no. You're everything I was looking for! I'm just confused."

She motions for me to sit back where I was and I do, hoping that I will get my explanation. She takes my hand again and gives me the warmest smile, making me mirror it without an option. "We have a whole lifetime to figure it out." She says with her beautiful voice.

I'm even more confused. A lifetime? She's dying in a few days! What the hell?! I look at the clock, which is resting on the wall. That clock has been my biggest enemy during all this process because it reminds me how time is what I lack. I hate that clock so much that I just have to stare at it all the time. It's hard to explain. But that clock must be broken. It says it's 4:30. It was 4:50 a while ago! I look at my own watch, which says that it's 4:30, too. What? What the hell? I look at Santana who is giving me a worried look. I swear she thinks that I look crazy. I look back at the clock on the wall and then I notice something that I didn't notice a few seconds ago.

It's going counterclockwise.

I look back at Santana, feeling like if this is some sort of crazy dream, but she just gives me a reassuring smile. "It's ok. It will be anyways. We have a whole lifetime together, there's nothing to worry about." She repeats while leaning in to kiss me fiercely, making all my worries disappear. She hasn't kissed me like that since like forever. It feels great. Like if all the butterflies that were dying along with her came back from the dead and made a party in my stomach. I'm worry-free. She caresses her hands through my face and hair and I just mimic her actions. After a few glorious minutes, she backs away, making all the worries come back. She gives me another smile and when it becomes too much I look at the clock.

4:27 PM. Moving Counterclockwise.

I look at my watch; 4:27 PM

I look at the doctor; he's still smiling like an idiot.

I look at the clock again; still 4:27. Moving Counterclockwise.

I look at Santana; she's still giving me worried glances.

I look at the clock again; now it's 4:26 PM. And it's moving Counterclockwise.

Counterclockwise.

Counterclockwise.


	2. Chapter 2

"Colors." She says.  
"Gay flag." I answer.  
She writes my answer down on her perfect-looking notebook on her expensive-looking desk andthen looks at me again. "Sun."  
"Fire." I answer, sliding against the couch.  
Her actions are repeated. "Time."  
"Backwards." I say.  
The pattern continues. "Santana."  
I smirk. "Sexy."  
"Sexy."  
"Santana."  
She snickers. "Love."  
I smile. "Santana."  
"You can't repeat answers." She says.  
I roll my eyes. "Her."  
"Fair enough." She keeps writing everything down while giving me some random words. "Death."  
"End."  
She sighs and keeps writing. "Therapy."  
"Stupid." I cross my arms on top of my chest.  
"Forward."  
I think for a second, until I give her my answer. "Moving on."  
After writing her answer down, she takes off her glasses and with her soft, delicate voice asks me another question. "What IS moving on for you?"  
"Um..." Honestly, I'm trying to cooperate here but I feel like I'm going nowhere. She keeps looking at me and treating me like a child, something that has not happened to me for years now, and yet she expects me to be polite and answer. "I guess it's leaving behind old experiences to make space for new ones. It's letting go of something to be able to have something better."  
She writes everything I say down, in some sort of monotonous and energy less way. "Have you been able to move on since you were born three days ago?"  
This is really getting irritating. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?! I was not born three days ago! I was born on July 2nd, 1994 in a hospital in Lima, Ohio! I was born 57 years ago! Why am I the only person in this messed up world that knows that!"  
After my little encounter with this new Santana, I got a panic attack. Nothing happened to me, I mean I'm used to getting panic attacks, but I still got one, making the doctor and Santana very 'worried'. They kept saying that this is the real world, that everything will be ok, that I just have to listen to them, that is normal for people to be born stressed out, bla bla bla. That didn't make anything any better because I am still stuck in an alternate universe in which time goes backwards. That's right, it's going backwards. As in the sun sets in the morning, as in everyday people are younger, as in everyday I'm closer to what everything used to be. After freaking out for two straight days, they decided it was best to get me an appointment with the local therapist that takes care of cases of "born & stressed". And here I am.  
"Let's say that what you say is true-" My therapist says.  
"Let's say it is and get straight to the question." I answer coldly.  
She nods and continues. "What happened the day before you woke up and found a parallel universe with time going backwards and everybody acting strange?"  
I sigh and think about everything that happened the day before. It was a very usual yet unusual day, I remember. "Should I tell you everything?"  
"Yes, please." She says.  
"Well..." I start. "I woke up that morning at 9 AM and I did everything I always do; I brushed my teeth, changed, combed my hair, I took my pills.. Oh, wait! No I didn't that was the next morning! Anyways I did all of that and other common activities."  
"Why did you take your pills the next morning and not that one?" The therapist asked.  
"I take pills to prevent panic attacks and to control them since I sometimes suffer from them. I haven't had one since I heard that my daughter's boyfriend died in a car accident, so I had not taken any since then."  
"What caused you the panic attack a few days ago?" She asks.  
"Let me get there. After I did everything I usually do, I left to the hospital, where I spent my day with Santana. The doctors told me that she had a few days left, that I should spend it wisely. He also told me that I should call family members so they could say their goodbyes and I was planning on doing it once I got home. On my way to our house, I hit a young man with my car. He looked at me with startled eyes, I think he was high because he looked like it, and then he left. That was around five minutes before I got to my house. Once I got to my house, I felt a panic attack coming up from all the stress of the day, so I decided to relax and go to sleep since I was so exhausted and I didn't want to suffer from a panic attack without Santana. Then the next day, I woke up and this messed up universe appears."  
"I see." She says taking notes. "How many pills did you take?"  
"One."  
"Hm.." She keeps writing everything down. All I can hear are words being written on a piece of paper and the ticking of the counterclockwise clock in her office. This is just fantastic. "Are you sure it was just one?"  
"Yes, I'm positive. Why?" Please tell me this is not going where I think it is.  
"Have you taken any more pills?" She asks ignoring my question.  
"Yes, since I constantly feel like I'm about to have a panic attack. Why?" I ask again.  
"It is not recommendable for newborns to take pills, unless strictly necessary, since it has side effect. Some of those side effects can include dizziness, headaches, confusion, hallucinations..."  
"So, you think some pills have me crazy?" I ask with a sarcastic smirk.  
"I think that the pills explain a lot of your behavior and thoughts."  
"That's great." I say, annoyed as fuck and standing up as quickly as possible. "You can keep thinking that, I honestly don't give a fuck. Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go see my dying wife in the hospital now." I quickly grab my purse and head for the door.  
"Wait, Mrs. Pierce we have not-"  
I shut the door before she even finishes. So, this is fantastic. The first few days I was in denial of all of this; I was accusing everybody of everything and I kept pinching myself so I could wake up. But eventually I had to face the facts: I'm stuck in a messed up world where everybody is talking crazy, even my wife, and nobody believes a thing I say. I don't even know who to talk to anymore! My wife has cancer so I can't stress her, my kids made a conference call to "meet" me but apparently I scared them with my weird thoughts, my mom was the one who suggested this little meeting, and everybody else seems to be living happily under these fucked up circumstances. This is fucking fantastic!

I head for the counter, where the secretary asks me if I want another appointment. After I say "no way in hell", I turn around and head for the door but I am stopped on my tracks when I see him. The same young man that I hit with my car that night was sitting a few feet away from me with his drunken expression. He doesn't look high because his eyes aren't red, but he does look like if he has his head out of this planet. He's looking at me, you know? He's staring at me straight in the eyes, with a confused expression on his face. I think that I probably look like that, too. But this doesn't make sense. Why is HE here? I get this is an alternative universe, but why am I running into him again? And why is he still staring at me?

I look through his face for bruises or something, but I don't find anything. Luckily, he won't sue.  
"Oh, thank God." I whisper out. Oh, wait... That day never happened here. Fuck. I'm so stupid.

He keeps staring at me with bewildered eyes, almost as if he just saw a ghost. This is getting too awkward. I stare away and notice that some people are staring, so I decide to leave. It's not like he remembers me or he can help me, so it's no use. I softly open the door, so I don't disturb the other patients behind me. And then I hear his voice.  
"Wait. You know who I am?"  
What.. Did.. He..Just.. Say?  
"Do you?" He repeats again after a few seconds of silence.  
He's crazy. He looks crazy. There's no way he knows who I am. So I decide to leave, since I just want to see my wife. I may think about going back there on my way to my car several times. Seventeen times to be precise. But truth is, he won't know anything. He's just messing with me... Right? Isn't everyone?

"Favorite color?" Santana asks with the sweetest smile in the world.  
"Umm.. Pink, I think? What about you?" I ask her.  
"I barely see colors here since it's all white and pale and boring, but I'm going to have to go with purple since it looks good with pink."  
After I left the clinic, I quickly came over here. I was greeted by my beautiful girl, who naturally wanted to know how it went. I told her that I didn't want to talk about it, but that later I would. I told her I just wanted to spend time with her. One thing lead to the other and here we are; talking about our favorite colors. This is something that I would have never expected from Santana. My real Santana would ask me how was my day and after my usual "good" she would just talk to me carefully, scared that I might fall apart in any second. This Santana was better. My old Santana gave up, while this one just fights through everything; even having a crazy wife. I'm trying to find the Santana I knew a few days ago in her but I can't; it's almost like if she's not there anymore. Instead, I have the old Santana. No, the Old old oldd Santana. Like my 4-year old Santana. She used to look at me this way, she used to ask me random questions like what's my favorite color, in fact that was the first thing she ever asked me. She used to be so calm and sweet and collected. Not that she wasn't anymore, she was just different after first grade. She lost her innocence at a young age, way before I did, and that is something I never could have prevented, mainly because I never thought she would change. Since she was forced into growing up before many other kids, I gave up on trying to get back this Santana. Don't get me wrong, I love Santana no matter what, but that Santana was always my favorite. And here she is... An innocent, yet mature Santana. This Santana is filled with wisdom and innocence and I love it. I just wish all of this made sense so I could enjoy everything.  
"Oh come on, San, that's not your favorite color."  
"Well, how do you know that?" She asks laughing.  
"Because I've lived the last 53 years of my life with you by my side and this is something that every wife should know." I say and quickly regret it.  
Her smile fades into something a little bit more serious. It's not a frown, but it's getting there. So much for not worrying her with my crazy problem anymore.  
"Then what is my favorite color?" She asks, trying to regain her cool. That was something I did not expect. I thought she was going to fight me on this, but she hasn't. At all.  
"Your favorite color is red because it's the color of a fighter. It's the color of strength...The color of power.. The color of determination, passion, and desire.. But most importantly, it's the color of love. Red defines you, the woman of my dreams. That's why red is and always will be your favorite color."  
Her smile came back halfway along my little monologue. God, she looks so perfect, so full of life.  
"You're right." She said smiling. "Red is way better than purple."  
I laugh a little, letting my inner tension ease up a bit.  
"You're so cute when you laugh." She says.  
"And you're so cute when you smile." I answer.  
"No wonder we ended up together. We are the best couple. I mean, have you seen us?"  
"Hey!" I say, trying to stay serious. "That was always my line, don't steal it!"  
She laughs a little in confusion. "What are you talking about, you've never said that before?"  
"Yeah I have! I used to say all the time before-" I stop mid-sentence, remembering that she doesn't remember anything we've gone through. Nothing at all... "Never mind..." Her smile softly turns into a worried frown, which stresses me out. I hate to see her upset, but it's hard to not upset her, especially since right now it feels like if we're in two different worlds. I honestly don't know how to make things any better. As much as I try to pretend that nothing is wrong, something IS wrong; but she doesn't get it.  
"How was everything before?" She asks carefully.  
"How was what?" I ask confuse.  
"Life before you woke up in this messed up world. How was it?" She asks again.  
I look at her, trying to find the catch or the trick about her question, but all I find is honesty in her eyes. "Do you believe me?"  
"I believe... That my wife doesn't lie." She says, with the same sincere expression as before.  
"But you just met me." I say. "How can you know I don't lie?"  
"Because just like you, I feel like I've known you my whole life. Because even though I was born three days ago, when I first saw you, I thought 'that's her. That's Brittany.' and I didn't even know it was you. Because whenever I'm with you I feel that somewhere else, in some other time, I spent the best times of my life with you. Sure, maybe it's just a feeling for me and it's something more real for you, but the feeling is the same."  
I look at Santana adoringly. Sometimes I underestimate the power of our love. Sometimes I underestimate our strong connection. We've always understood each other, even when we don't understand ourselves, so what would make this any different? I swear, I'm the stupidest person in the world. I head to her bed and I place a chaste kiss on her lips. "It was awesome." I whisper to her mouth.  
"How awesome?" She asks grinding.  
"Like, the definition of awesome." I say sitting right next to her on her hospital bed. "Want me to tell you about it?"  
"Of course, honey, BUT not today." She says while gently poking my nose.  
"Aww, why? I want to tell you." I say whimpering.  
"Because it's late, sweetie. You have to head back home and sleep before it gets too late." She says.  
"Can't I stay here?" I ask, pitching an idea.  
"No, you can't. You're going to wake up with a sore back. You're not 16, you can't sleep wherever you want and not expect consequences." She says playfully.  
"So you want me to leave?" I say, pouting.  
"No! Of course not! But I'm kind of worn out and I know that so are you, so it's best if you go home and sleep." She says.  
I nod my head. "Fine." I place a soft kiss on her lips. "Goodnight. Call me if you need anything."  
"I will."  
I head for the door and I look back at her. I see her smiling at me like an idiot, so I smile at her like a teenage lover. How does she do that? Whenever she was as sweet and as romantic as this, she would always bring the teenager in me. She would always make me smile wide and she would make me feel like if I'm on a cloud. Like right now! Santana brings the best in me, especially this new Santana. This Santana doesn't just make me feel in love again; she makes me feel young. She makes me feel innocent. She makes me feel unstoppable. That's the effect of the Santana Lopez on me. "I love you."  
"I love you, too." She says, still smiling. And that was all I needed to have a good night.  
On my way down to my car, my usual bitterness comes back. This is something that always happens when I'm not with her. It used to be the other way around, but we kind of switched roles in the end. When I start to open my car, I hear something behind me. Like if someone was breathing and trying to walk silently all at the same time.  
"Hello?" I say to the empty parking lot. No answer. My heart starts to beat and I start sweating. The security of this hospital was never the best; this proves it. I quickly open my car door and I go inside. I close the door, lock the doors, turn on the car, and I start heading out. While in reverse, I hit something. I think it was a person. "Crap." I say under my breath. I don't dare to get out of the car and check if the person is ok. What if I hit a burglar? Then what? I just turn my head to check if there's someone there or if I can see something, but nothing appears to be there. I let myself look for a few more seconds. Still nothing. I look around the parking lot, but there's no signs of life, so I just turn to the front again and I start reversing again. When I look back to see where I was reversing to, I see someone standing there. I quickly and violently hit the brakes, making me move back and forth a lot. Once I stop moving, I concentrate on looking at the person behind my car. And then I see that drunken expression again.  
"Not again..."


End file.
